


Dark Tendencies

by AsgardianHorsemanship



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics)
Genre: "Ripper" Rupert Giles, Binge watching Buffy, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood Loss, Bloodlust, Bloodplay, Buffy Bashing, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, But that's no fun, Character Development, Clubbing, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Don't Judge Me, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, I Don't Even Know, I Don't Know Where This Is Going, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I ship myself with Spike, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), POV Alternating, POV Female Character, POV Original Character, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, So let's just party, Spike is Sexy, Spike is my spirit animal, Sunnydale, The Bronze, University, Unsure what I am writing, Vampire Sex, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, so I wrote this, this is the result
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsgardianHorsemanship/pseuds/AsgardianHorsemanship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike x Reader </p><p>He knew that you were looking; of course he knew that you were looking. He was obviously the sort of guy who knew people looked at him; and from the smug look on his face and the smirk playing across his lips you'd say he enjoyed that they did. </p><p>Never the less, you couldn't seem to stop yourself from looking...</p><p>What happened next wasn't entirely your fault, but you couldn't really blame it all on him either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ignorance isn't Exactly Bliss, but it's Probably Safer

He knew that you were looking; of course he knew that you were looking. He was obviously the sort of guy who knew people looked at him; and from the smug look on his face and the smirk playing across his lips you'd say he enjoyed that they did.

Never the less, you couldn't seem to stop yourself from looking, you couldn't understand why more people weren't to be honest. Maybe he was a regular.

 _'Maybe he has a reputation'_   a little voice whispered in your head.

So what, all you were doing was looking.

It wasn't your first time in The Bronze, but you hadn't seen him before. Granted, you'd only been here a month or so, so that was probably why, you weren't exactly the expert on people in the area. He'd first caught your attention when he ordered from the bar; you'd been sitting there wistfully looking at your almost empty glass, wishing you could have a good European cider, instead of this all American beer.

You'd been travelling for a long time and you'd come to Sunnydale because it fascinated you, all the crazy stories and history was something you loved, though, this area of America was not at all what you expected. So very different from New York. All those movies misled you, there were zero tanned surfer guys walking around in their swim shorts, it was slightly depressing.

So when you heard the dulcet London tones asking for a beer and adding 'mate' on the end in typical British fashion you'd instantly looked up. That was not what you were expecting in this little town in California. That accent, like all the others you'd heard when travelling, fascinated you, you wanted to sit them down and have them read from some Shakespearean play whilst you reclined in an armchair by the fire.

Ah, back to the matter at hand.

He was sitting on a weathered leather sofa now, you took him in slowly, from the buckled biker boots running up his slim legs to the black trench coat he surprisingly was still wearing, even though the club was warm and slightly stuffy and humid from the emanating musk of the dance floor.

He was twiddling a bottle of beer in his long fingers and looked positively bored. He leaned back and dropped his head onto the back of the sofa, his coat falling onto the seat revealing a taught black t-shirt. You could barely stop yourself raising an eyebrow at that and looked back down to your drink, blinking a few times you looked back over, he was scanning the dance floor now, probably checking out the women in their tank tops and high heels as they swung their hair to the music. Maybe he'd look at you if you did that.

Oh what a thought, the only reason people looked at you was to ask the time. You weren't ugly, far from it, you dyed your hair to suit your complexion and wore well fitted clothing, you were just different. It's why you were staring at him, he was different too. You looked down at your feet, the union jack boots you'd picked up on your travels looked, like him, straight out of a British cult classic film about the punk rock era, and your bomber jacket with awfully crude badges and patches that made the locals either laugh or glare was the type the rockers would wear when pummelling the mods, if they still existed. Fashion wasn't of great importance to you, you preferred to be comfortable over stylish, but, you cared enough, just not about the same clothes the 'normal kids' wore.

The stage fell silent and you looked up from your shoes, finally the band was setting up. This looked more like it, guitars, amps, and the clomp of boots came onto the platform. This was why you only came here on certain nights, when the music was more to your taste. You glanced over to him and saw he was watching the stage also, maybe he had as good a taste in music as his clothing suggested.

A few tweaked strings and a 1,2,3 later the band were in full swing, you itched to get up and dance but there was no one to dance with, you had a couple of friends on campus but that was about it, you weren't exactly shy, but you'd learned from a young age about high school cliques and you didn't really fit into them. It's why you'd enjoyed studying abroad, there was so much more acceptance.

The guy slumped back into the sofa and you watched curiously, it didn't seem that anything could alleviate his boredom. Turning away you looked at your glass, you'd finished your pint now and the bar keep came over to refill.

"You enjoying the music tonight babe?" He asked with the casual air of a waiting staff. You enjoyed speaking to the staff here as they were very friendly and you’d found a good rapport with them.

"It's pretty great." You replied as he refilled your glass.

"Everyone always enjoys the show." He commented without looking up.

"Not everyone." You ventured, trying to sound uninterested.

"What?" He said over the noise and you indicated to the leather sofa. "Oh, Mr Doom and Gloom never enjoys anything, he only comes here to pick up chicks."  _'Told you so'_   came the little voice.

"Charming."

"Not all Brits are classy." The barman joked and handed you the now foaming glass.

"You sound like you like him." You replied, trying to keep your voice straight.

"He doesn't bother me, except when he gets into punch ups with the chick's boyfriend, we get worse in here, this one’s more sulky than anything else."

You took a sip and pretended to lose interest in the conversation in fear of making your curiosity known and the bar man sauntered off to the next customer.

You glanced back over at the man, whose eyes were on the dance floor once more. Whilst he was turned away a girl sashayed up to him in a mini skirt and tube top. He turned quickly, so quickly the girl seemed to jump in surprise. She settled herself and smiled at him, deep red lips insinuating mischief. He looked her up and down with dark eyes and she stopped her hip swaying walk. His eyes locked to hers and she backed away, heels clicking as she spun and hurried off.

You could almost feel the words 'fuck off' radiating from him. You watched him all the more, she had been pretty, and he was here to take a girl home, you'd think that would have been a score. But no, he seemed to lapse into brooding and drained his beer bottle before dropping it carelessly to the floor. He once again slumped back onto the seat, his hands going to his face and he scrubbed at his eyes. When he looked back up she followed his eyes to where the girl in the mini skirt and her friends were shooting him dirty looks. He did something terribly peculiar then, he bared his teeth at them. They all looked away, muttering amongst themselves and seemed to relocate as a unit. He returned his gaze to the dance floor, amusement in his eyes and silent laughter on his lips.

You'd been bored before you noticed him, you came to The Bronze to get out of the house but rarely found anything interesting bar the onstage talent. Tonight you had drinks and an engaging show. You smiled into your glass and took a long sip. Sometimes it was nice just to have something pretty to look at, and he was pretty, beautiful in fact. The more you looked at him the more beautiful he became. He had slicked back platinum hair, short and curling at the back of his neck. Smooth, pale skin surrounded dark, mysterious eyes and long, elegant lashes that drew you in. One eyebrow was interrupted by a scar branching across the top of his eye like a white vein, adding to his mysterious charm. Sharp cheekbones framed his face, causing shadows to run down his cheeks in the half light making his pale skin stand out all the more. His cheek bones fascinated you, the way his skin moved across them as he drank, prominent cheek bones on men were so... Sultry...

His neck was well muscled, his collarbones poking out from his shirt collar casting more shadows across him and muscles rippled under the tight t-shirt. His coat and jacket hugged a slender but strong frame and when he suddenly stood up and the leather tightened on his shoulders you felt a muscle in your throat twitch. You had to swallow before you could look back at him, he was too pretty. Gorgeous even, what on earth was he doing here when he could be modelling for a gothic clothing line or aftershave or something. He moved purposefully to the bar. Long legged strides showing off his tight jea-pants you reminded yourself, you were back in America now. It had taken you long enough to stop using the word the Brits used for underwear, now to break it back.

He slunk, and that was the only word for it, like a panther on the prowl, up to a girl at the bar with dark hair and large eyes. He was tall enough to look imposing and the crowds parted as we walked through and leaned one elbow onto the wood. He cocked his head to one side and indicated her empty glass with a suave smile. The girl looked slightly shocked and you could see her head moving from side to side. You watched with rising interest as a boy came over and squared up to him. The boy barely came up to his chin and the guy smiled that feral smile he'd bared on the girls earlier.

What was it that the barkeep had said. Maybe he enjoyed going after taken girls.

He said something and though he was too far away for you to hear it was obviously rude, the boy put himself in between the ice blond guy and his girlfriend and raised his hands to push him away. Quick as a flash the guy was pinned onto the bar with his hand behind his back, you hadn't even had time to blink as it had happened, the guy snarled something into his ear but let go swiftly as the bar staff moved over. He walked away with a huge, devilish grin spread across his face and his eyes alight.

You knew you ought to be thinking ' _what a shit head_ ', but instead you were struggling to not find his swaggering incredibly sexy as he whisked himself away.

He took himself back to the sofa and hopped onto it, flinging his legs across it. A couple were on it already, hands entwined making mushy love faces at each other, and they had to jump up out of the way as the guy glared and placed his hands behind his head, daring them to comment on his take over.

They, like everyone else backed away, leaving the guy to his musings, but now lots of people were looking, but this time probably in disgust, which seemed to please him just as much as the admiring glances did. You didn't look away this time, his little outburst had given you a free pass to stare without garnering attention and you took it. He dropped a hand off of the sofa and grabbed the beer bottle he'd discarded earlier, he looked at it as though it were a long lost friend and dropped it back to the floor. He'd most likely be up to order another one soon, though seemed to be conflicted at the idea of the effort involved.

' _Why don't you bring him a beer?_ ' Said a different little voice. You could imagine a little shoulder devil and angel on you. The Angel horrified at the thought and the devil laughing at their facial expression. _'Like you'd ever have the guts'_ the voice seemed to taunt. It was right, you were satisfied with just looking on, weren't you?

Then the music changed to a cover of a Bon Jovi song and you made a decision, you couldn’t sit here all night. Picking up your glass you slipped off the barstool and picked your way through the crowd. He wasn't going to look at you, no one noticed you, and sitting at the bar was boring, you'd danced at the club before so why not do so again. But this time, you dropped your glass off at the table by the sofa, your hand almost brushing the soles of his boots as they hung over the arm. You didn't look at him, not even a glance, but instead made your way to the floor and started to dance, letting the music wrap around you and feeling the tension of being alone when everyone else was here with friends or partners be swept away in the rhythm of guitars and drums. You doubted you cut a particularly exciting figure, your bleach blonde hair tipped black and bomber jacket tied around a black ragged vest top that said 'rock isn't dead', that had slices down the sides to reveal tiny parts of your skin, unlike the mystifying tops most the girls were wearing, some that made you amazed they even covered people's nipples.

The song ended and you let your arms drop, feeling the sweat on you from the press of bodies, you pushed your hair back from your face and let yourself catch your breath before walking sedately off the floor. A quick glance told you the guy was still lounging on the sofa like he was king of the club and you kept your eyes down. You came up to the little table and picked up your drink, it had started to lose its cool edge and you wrinkled your nose at the idea before going to drink it.

"I wouldn't if I were you." Came a sensual voice from in front of you. You looked up to see the guy propping himself up on the arm of the sofa, legs crossed lazily across the cushions and arms behind him.

You gave him a quizzical look. "Excuse me?"

"I said: I wouldn't do that if I were you, love."

You furrowed your brows as he said it, trying not to display your complete shock.

"And why would that be?" You kept your glass close to your lips to give you something to focus on as your breath frosted the sides.

"Because it's a shit brand you're drinking."

You went to open your mouth and retort and he sat up.

"Kidding love, some twat walked by and dropped something into it."

You put your glass down so violently you sloshed it up your arm. "Oh bugger it." You shook your arm out and drops flew off.

"Hey easy on the goods love!" He sat back; you couldn't tell if he was mocking or actually serious.

"I have more things to worry about than your vanity, what did they look like?"

"What, my goods?"

"Hilarious," you swallowed tightly, sarcasm, why did you always revert to sarcasm, "the bloke."

"You talk like a Brit." He commented, he said talk like 'tolk', a bored expression on his face.

"So do you, are you going to answer me."

"I didn't exactly take note, 'blokes' aren't my forte."

"Well then," I tutted, trying to ignore the electricity his voice sent through me, "thank you for your help kind sir."

He just sat there watching me with cold, but, possibly curious eyes, or maybe it was just wishful thinking on your part.

You brushed your arm off on your t-shirt and walked away, trying to resist the urge to turn around and see if he was still looking at you.

"He had black hair and a red shirt on, and some god awful khaki trousers."

You spun round to see him sitting straighter and took a dive and smiled at him.

"Thanks." You said and then walked away, trying to look as sexy as you possibly could manage. Which probably wasn't a great deal.

You went up to the bar and told the bar man, who promised to keep a good look out and sent one of the other staff out into the crowd. You walked around the edge of the hall, looking this way and that, as you neared the floor you found yourself looking to the sofa. A small twinge of disappointed pricked at you when you saw it empty, but you ignored it and carried on with your search. You did a full circle of the place to no avail, and were just settling against a wall to survey the floor when a voice in your ear made you jump.

"What are you going to do when you find him?"

You blew out the breath you'd sucked in and turned to face the white haired man you'd been staring at all night, this close up you could see his skin was not just pale, but almost deathly so, as if he hid inside on sunny days. It was smooth as glass on his chiselled face and you had to tear your eyes away from his face to look into his eyes and you realised they weren't dark as they had seemed in the dim light of the club, they were blue, mezmerizingly so. They sparked with amusement as you gazed into them and it took you a moment to remember he had asked you a question.

"Errr... Call the cops?"

"Fat lot of good they are. By the time they'd get here he'd be long gone."

You pulled some courage from a dusty corner of your body. "Maybe I'll have to apprehend him myself then." You lifted your chin in defiance as he smirked.

"Now that would be fun to watch."

"Are you following me?" I asked as his proximity started to overwhelm me.

"Depends, have you spent half the night staring at me?"

A witty reply died in your throat and you looked away. It was fun while it lasted.

"Do I get Brownie points for the truth?" You dodged.

"How about the feeling of goodness from telling it?" He offered, the smirk unwavering.

May as well, what was there to lose, he obviously found you pathetically amusing.

"What a boring reward, yes, yes I have been, your turn."

He looked taken aback at your honest answer, his smug smile dropping away for a split second to reveal something all the more curious, but it was gone in an instant. He raised a dark eyebrow, contrasting his pale skin and hair, you wondered if he also dyed his hair.

"You got me," he raised his hands in mock surrender, "you looked like a girl on a mission."

"Woman, on a mission thanks and I am. Or was."

"So you were on a mission to apprehend and jail whoever spiked your drink?"

"You got me.” I mirrored his earlier reply, but he remained stoic.

"How very interesting." He purred in an undertone and before you could reply he slipped away into the crowd.  
You straightened up and tried to spot him, but he had melted away into the hot air, you tried not to feel too disappointed and pushed yourself off the wall, figuring you'd make one last sweep.

As you walked, you tried to clear your head, which seemed to be doing very haphazard cart wheels, he’d not only spoken to you, but pursued you for the point of speaking to you. That certainly didn’t happen, but that didn’t mean that it meant anything, you knew better than that, especially to a known womanizer. It was always the pretty ones who were like that. Would it kill them to be decent human beings?

You found yourself near the entrance to the bar and ducked out, looking this way and that, no red shirt guy. You sighed and walked back inside, figuring you may as well get another drink and keep hold of it this time. _Sleaze balls_.

As you pulled yourself up onto the barstool you found yourself absentmindedly scratching your arm and looked down, it felt a little bit hot to touch, maybe you were allergic to something in the beer, you stopped scratching and asked for a flannel to wipe your arm down with from the bar man when you ordered your pint. That done, your arm felt normal again and you settled down to drink in the dim light.

As you replayed the last few minutes over and over in your head, a sense of relief washed over you, he may not have actually cared, but the man with the white hair had literally just saved you from something potentially unpleasant, harmful even. You told yourself you’d have to thank him properly, un-sarcastically, next time you saw him.

It was only a few minutes later that you heard the screams from outside, jerking upright and leaping from the stool you ran outside, your heart pounding, unsure of what you could do but knowing you should go see what had happened.

A girl in tears came running into the doors of the club and fell into her obvious group of friends, babbling about blood in an alleyway. You ran outside and followed the commotion to one of the alleys that led to the docks.

Sure as day there were footprints on the dusty sidewalk that looked suspiciously like blood, you leaned down and touched a hand to it, it was slightly sticky and cold. You followed the expanding group of curious passers by and men trying to be brave and pushed through the crowd as the blood got thicker, as you broke through to the front you almost lost your footing and scrabbled back from the thick, black pool by your feet. You followed it to where it was soaking through the trousers of a pair of legs, attached to a body slumped against the wall of the alley, as your eyes travelled upwards you let out a cry when they rested on the remainder of what had been the person’s neck and throat, that was now open, ribbons of skin hanging off of it, red blood dripping from them. This was not happening.

As you caught your breath and focused your mind you couldn’t take your eyes off of the man, it took you a long time as people crowded behind you to realise the man was wearing a red t shirt and khaki pants…


	2. I Take it Back, Ignorance is Most Definitely Bliss, Boring Boring Bliss

You stood there for a moment, this hollow feeling spreading out from your chest until it seemed to have swallowed you; you couldn’t quite wrap your head around it… This was the man from the bar who had spiked your drink and here he was sitting slumped in front of you dripping copious amounts of his own blood, things like this just didn’t happen in real life.

 You narrowed your eyes as the crowd jostled behind you, you weren’t feeling this way because the man was dead, you were feeling this way because you never got to accost him. You weren’t just revolted or upset, you were disappointed…

_Maybe he wasn’t just shady drinks wise, maybe he owed people money. He obviously had drugs, he put one in your drink…_

Now you could hear the sirens getting closer, you’d never get used to the harsh wail of them compared to the almost musical European ones. You backed away from the body slowly, no point in reporting the man to the police now as you’d most likely be dragged into a murder case for it, because this was what it was, this wasn’t an accident; he didn’t just trip and split his neck open...

You needed to calm down, get out of the way of all these people wanting to be involved for the sake of it, the vile pit of humanity who didn’t care what happened as long as they could recount it later on. The decent people had turned and left the scene almost immediately, what did that make you?

_Dizzy apparently_ , you took a deep breath and leaned up against a wall once you were free of the crowd. You felt awful; surely it wasn’t just from seeing the guy on the floor. As you leaned on your arm and pressed your forehead to it the normally warm skin felt aflame.. Your arm! Of course! Whatever had been put in your drink was probably low grade and full of toxic substances and you’d covered your arm in it, great, just great.

You pushed yourself off the wall, not without some effort, and made your way forwards. Blinking and shaking your head you stood up and looked around, you should probably go to a hospital. Yes, that’s a good idea, a hospital, the hospital, Sunnydale hospital, hospital, beds, doctors, white walls.

_I feel sick…_ You thought and made a face, you couldn’t remember which way the hospital was; you took a heavy breath and struck off in a random direction figuring you’d make your way to the hospital or maybe a payphone. _There’s police and an ambulance right there… But they’ve got to deal with that dead guy; this is fine, nothing, no worries, just keep walking!_

You wandered aimlessly around the back of The Bronze by accident and stared, the dumpsters and rubbish were starting to blur, the sick feeling was getting stronger and your arm felt like it was on fire. _Not good not good._ “Not good…” You said aloud to no one in particular.

“Not good? This is a lot worse than ‘not good’.” There was that low, purring voice again and you turned round so fast you stumbled sideways. Suddenly he was there beside you, holding your right arm steady. “You don’t look so good love.”

You looked up at him, trying to see his face but it was just distortion, “Idunfeelsogoodneither.” You slurred your words as you tried to keep your focus on the hand on your arm, keep a sense of reality. “Do you know wherethehoppytalissir?” You hissed at how bad you sounded, you thought you’d done well to be coherent, evidently not.

“I don’t reckon you should be going there right now, cause that bloke in the red shirt has a pocketful of the same drug he gave you and you have blood on your shoes…”

“Whaa?” You looked down, slumping over, but luckily his grip held as you looked down at your boots. “Awh man, bloodnevercomesoffkay.”

“You’re telling me.” The blond haired man muttered as he readjusted his grip on your arm and walked off. “Come with me now love, that’s it.”

“Where’re youtakenmeh?” The words tumbled from your mouth and you decided it would be better to not fight him; he was a lot stronger than he looked and he didn’t even seem to notice that he was dragging you.

“Away from the police, you’ll be safe don’t worry.” He said, but there was nothing in his tone that suggested it was the truth.

“I dunknowyou, howsatyousay I canbesafewidyou?” You stopped and he stopped too this time, turning to face you

“I guess you’re right there.” He cocked his head to the side slightly, it might have been endearing in any other circumstances, but you could barely see his face currently, it was a mess of pale white and red.. Red? Must be the drugs. “Well, I can’t promise safety but I can promise no cops? Fair deal? Come on let’s go!” He scrubbed his hand across his face, turning his whole body into a blur for a moment.

You went to reply, worry and fear rising but instead the sick feeling rose in your throat and you coughed wildly, a fleeting feeling of relief that you weren’t sick in front of him passed through you. You straightened up as best as you could, trying to ignore your arm pulsing with heat but you couldn’t, you looked at it and saw 3 of it instead of your usual one arm. You squinted, trying to clear your vision but he saw you and looked too. His face and body shook in front of you, making you feel even sicker as you tried to tell him to stand still, which you knew was silly as he was. He stepped closer to you and let go of your arm, you gave a cry and lurched forwards as your head spun 

“Woah, easy there.” The guy said and caught you, before you could make another noise he’d scooped you up into his arms. The coherent part of your brain was flashing red in warning that you were drugged in a dark alley with a stranger, but the other part was marvelling at how he hugged you to his chest and how you could feel the muscles in his arms.

“You’re cold.” You blurted out as he moved, it felt like a ship pitching into stormy waters and you buried your head into his chest automatically and felt, or at least you think you felt his whole body tense, but you felt too awful to care that much. As you leaned against his chest the buzzing in your head reached your ears and you let out a soft moan as he shifted you slightly in his arms. He was A LOT stronger than you’d previously thought and he strode off down the alley way as if you weighed nothing, the worry at the back of your mind seemed to be giving up slightly as you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping you could block out the bad feelings alongside the worry. What could you do in this condition anyway? He said you’d be okay, that was apparently your best bet right now. You tried to consider your options but your head swam and dots of lights appeared behind your eyelids as you realised you were losing consciousness. Your last thought was _‘at least he isn’t the guy in the red shirt…’_ which wasn’t terribly comforting to be honest.


End file.
